


The statue

by wandering_took



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Master/Servant, Sauron (implied), Short One Shot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 15:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_took/pseuds/wandering_took
Summary: The Witch-king dreams.Very short.





	The statue

The torch flickered, conjuring the shadows into a dance on the marble curves. His gaze followed their movements captivated by the piece of art. The sculptor might have been long turned into dust, eaten by grave worms. Still, his creation held the heart of a man tight in its stone fingers. Whoever the sculptor might have been, he had put all his talent into the marble.

_He dedicated even his heart and soul undoubtedly._

Jealousy and imagination began to weave pictures he did not desire to envision. Irritated, he drove them away with an effort of will. The Master would not deign to engage in carnal games with a filthy elf. No matter what gift Eru had bestowed upon him.

_No. Never._

Now this secret treasure, the exquisite statue belonged only to him. The Master sought to destroy it as an annoying reminder of the epoch long past and forgotten. But he would not allow this blasphemy, hiding this piece of art in his fortress' deepest dungeons. The only time he had ever disobeyed his Master’s will. He approached it, not able to resist the desire to feel the coolness of marble under his touch.

To feel the curves of the impeccable body he had craved for so long.

To dream of the cold stone turning into hot flesh and responding to his longing.

He could not imagine any other being, be it mortal or immortal, to awaken such desire in him, his heart remained cold for the whole span of his prolonged life. Yet it surrendered before the Ainu, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Aching and dreaming. And without any semblance of hope. He let his hands run over the smooth body of the statue - flesh and stone intertwined, mirroring the images from his dreams.

_If only…_

Yet he would not allow his desperate feelings to slip past his ever reserved expression. Not even for a moment in the presence of the Master or any living soul. The statue remained the only witness for his weakness of heart. Speechless, it would not betray this sinful secret.

He embraced the body of marble; his face rested against the stony locks, carved with the incredible skill of the artist.

_So close and yet so far. If only I could…_

The still and indifferent stone cared not for the passion of the aching mortal heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't bookmark, thanks.


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